


And So It Is

by Perr1n



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perr1n/pseuds/Perr1n
Summary: Live, die, repeat.Civilizations grow, civilizations fall.Heroes are born and heroes die.The sun rises, but it will eventually fall.
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

The ground was cold, so, terribly cold. A trembling hand paws at the material that covered its owner, who lets out a weak noise, throat dry, eyes heavy. Random words and images swirl in their head, vanishing before they could focus on any in particular. Rising onto one knee, the joints stiff from lack of movement, they groan again, spitting out the dirt that had infiltrated their mouth. 

Face gaunt and skin pale, they glance too and fro, the narrow path ahead the only option, flanked on either side of them craggy rock walls underneath a stormy grey sky. One foot takes a step, knees buckling as they fall. Hissing in a mixture of annoyance and pain, they push themselves up, taking a second step, then a third, fourth and fith, each more steady, the soft thud of their boots on the ground the only noise, a heavy, uncomfortable silence hanging.

The figure pauses, their gaze settled on a shape just ahead, a person, or at the very least some creature in the shape of a man, for as they draw closer, hoping to speak, hoping to find any answers, they see that what was mistaken for a man was anything but, their skin pale and leathery, pulled taught over the bones. Their black robe hung loosely off the creature's gaunt body, billowing in the cold afternoon breeze. 

It turns to face them, they feel their body shiver, shiver at the sight of the eyeless skull, empty and without emotion, mouth lacking lips so they may see each of its yellow, cracked teeth, said teeth clacking together as it begins to shuffle forward, the rusted, half-broken sword it held stained with splotches of brown. 

They step back in fear, the creature following, letting out a hiss born of lungs as dry and coarse as sand, lunging with unsteady feet at their target, who leaps aside to avoid the clumsy but powerful strike. The beast stumbles, teetering like it was about to fall over, regaining its balance to attack again, except this time its strike is deflected by the person's own sword. 

Snarling, the undead charges, the downward slash sidestepped and this was it's last, for what little was left of its mind registered the fact that it had been impaled up to the hilt on a curved scimitar, which retracts so it may deliver a cut that cleaves off the top of its skull, a thick, black sludge, coagulated, decomposing blood dripping from the half decapitated head.

The beast falls and as it does, a feeling flows through its killer, a gentle, comforting warmth that pushes away, if only for a moment the cold. They find one thought, the first clear, coherent memory stay long enough for them to realize that their name started with the letters Z and A.

Za, it was better than nothing, they supposed, turning away from the hollow man, plodding through the cold, muddy water towards a stone staircase, encountering a few more undead, cutting them down just as swiftly as the first, each fallen bringing about that same warmth, the warmth that made Za feel a little more connected to the world around them.

Reaching the crest of a hill, Za lets out a gasp, for below stretched out a winding forest, the tops of the ashy green trees swaying, an impressive sight, but they sadly had more important matters, such as the crackling bonfire to their right, which seems to call them. 

Za kneels down, taking in the head the tongues of flame let off, their stiff muscles relaxing, a feeling of contentment settling within, a feeling of safety and comfort. They decide to rest, if only for a bit before continuing.

God's above know what else lies ahead. 


	2. The Ashen Judge

Eventually, Za forces themselves to rise, turning their back to the warm fire, heading off down the well-worn path, bumping into more Hollow, as they had come to call them, thanks to their ever disturbingly empty gazes. They were slow for the most part, not seeming all that intelligent, their swings wild and frenzied, easy to block and counter.

Ducking to avoid the bolt loosed by one wielding a crossbow, Za chops into the shooters neck, they dropping like a sack full of stones, right in front of the path leading to a circular area filled with more cold water, ankle-deep as Za plods towards the centerpiece decoration, the enormous grey statue carved in the shape of a man, kneeling with their head bowed. At its side was a massive cast iron halberd, embedded it the statues chest the hilt of a sword, grip glowing a warm orange, seeming to beckon Za forward just like the bonfire.

Somewhere, in the back of their still flurried mind, the concluded that whatever power they felt within the flames was contained also in the sword, which they grip by the pommel, giving a hard tug. 

It slides free rather easily, thanks in large part to being lubricated by the blood that leaks out of the statue. 

Too late do they realize, so caught up in admiring the light within their new sword to notice as the statue rises, halberd gripped in both hands, growling softly. It brings the hefty blade down, Za feeling the air let out a WHOOSH! as they roll away, chunks of rock and dirt being flung into the air from the impact.

Clutching their two weapons, Za stares up at the creature, who rumbles in the back of its throat, sounding like the tumbling of rocks downhill, their halberd held aloft as it stalks forward, twin crimson red lights burning from the eye sockets of its helmet.

_Judge_

A voice whispers in their head, confusing Za long enough for them to almost be split in two by another inhumanly powerful attack. They hop away, staying long enough to slash one sword into the back of their foes leg, the shallow cut painful regardless, confirmed when towering beast lets out a bellow, pivoting so one armored foot could slam into Za's chest, flinging them backward.

They release a breathless cry of hurt, rolling as they were on fire when the so-called Judge fills up their sight, having leaped skyward only to plummet back down, turns the spot Za vacated into a crater.

Twirling its weapon with master skill, The Judge charges, spinning to bring the full weight of his blade down, Za rolls, slashing upward, the edge of their sword finding a chink in their foes armor, drawing forth a spurt of red. Roaring, the Jude delivers a backhanded punch that causes dozens of twinkling lights to flash in Za's vision, who spits out a gob of bloody phlegm. 

They stab with the fire sword, slipping underneath a gap, buried once more to the hilt, the impaled Judge howling with anger, followed quickly by their entire backside erupting, tendrils of whispy, oily black sludge clawing free of his body, condensing into solid shapes, such as two ruby eyes that gleamed with hate, a claw almost twice the height of the Judge, each finger as thick as tree trunks grabbing a chunk of stone off the ground, hurling it at Za with deadly intent.

So close they were to the Judge, Za had not time to avoid, pain blossoming across their body, most severe in their chest, no doubt something was broken. 

Still, Za had enough strength left to stand back up, staring down the roiling mass of black tentacles that were slowly but surely enveloping all of the Judge, dragging itself towards them while letting out an earsplitting shriek. 

Za had their scimitar still, but the fire sword was lodged within the dark beast, the heat it radiated causing its fluid-like flesh to sizzle and pop.

Ducking and rolling past swipes of the creature's paws, Za takes hold of the fire sword, pulling with all their might. It is dislodged alongside a torrent of foul-smelling black ichor, spinning to cleave at the monster's face when it leans down to try and bite them in half. 

More repugnant goo is spilled as the heated blade cleaves off chunk after chunk of the flesh of its target, the red hot edge burning deep, until finally, with one last agonized cry, it collapses, smoke curling off its charred form.

Huffing, heart thudding, Za inhales deep, feeling the strength of this monster flow into them, easing the pain in their chest, but still not enough to keep them from pitching forward, fainting from exhaustion. 


	3. Firelink Shrine

Their eyes fluttering open, Za surveys the world around them.

The floor under them was cold dark stone, the same stone as the domed roof of the structure they were in. Rising into a sit, they take note of the man seated right next to them, head lowered and eyes closed as he naps. 

The room was a circle, the spot Za was laying part of two sets of stairs that lead upward left and right. 

In the middle was a pit for a bonfire, cold and without light. 

Five thrones of varying sizes take up the other side of the room, two on either side of the fifth, going upward as they do. 

Directly across from Za, seated on the lowermost left throne was a small, pale-skinned man clad in black robes, hands steepled as he speaks in a soft voice to the woman standing next to him. 

She has her palms clasped together, ash blonde hair swaying as it spills down her back. 

The Pygmy Man then notes Za staring, nodding his head. 

The woman bows, turning away from him to slowly descend the stairs, each step hesitant and careful. Za sees why when they get close, having decided to meet her halfway. The headdress she wore covered her eyes, impossible to see past. 

"Welcome to the Shrine, Unkindled one." The woman greets, voice gentle and flitting. "I am a Firekeeper." "Za" Is their reply, resisting the instinctive urge to extend one hand. Partly because the so-called Firekeeper could not see it and also because they were alarmed by how hoarse and rough they sound.

Clearing their throat, Za listens as the Keeper continues to speak. "I tend to the fire, I tend to thee." "Wh...What fire? What is this place?" The Keeper tilts her head, "It is the shrine in which the Lords of Cinder are supposed to hold court, or it was intended to be, but all save Little Ludleth have abandoned their thrones." 

"Lords of Cinder" Za muses, "Like King Gwyn of Lordran? From the old legends?" "Indeed, heroic figures who chose to give their soul to the First Flame to stave off the Dark, only those destined to burn have chosen to forsake their holy duty. To save this world from the Age of Dark, the Unkindled Undead, such as yourself have been awoken from death to return the lords to their thrones." 

"Why can I not remember anything?" The keeper is silent for a moment. "Death is meant to be one's final end, where all they are is returned to the ground, I am afraid thy memories have been lost. Forgive me, but the chance that they return is very low."

Swallowing the lump in their throat, Za nods, "Then there is only one thing left for me to do." 

"To this end," The keeper states, "I am at thy side. Place the coiled sword within the bonfire when thou is ready to begin their quest." 

Coiled sword? She must refer to the flaming sword Za thankfully still had at their side, which they now see is beginning to glow a brighter yellow. 

They observe the weapon, walking over to the fire pit. The sword throbs even more intensely and when Za touches the mound of ash with the blades tip, tongues of orange-red flame begin to spread outward. 

They bury the sword into the heap, watching as the firepit is lit, warmth spreading over Za, easing their sore bones. 

"What now?" They ask the Keeper, stoic and still at their left. "Touch the flames, feel their warmth, let them guide thee to their mission. But before thy departs, a gift most befitting of an Undead." From somewhere behind her, the Keeper produces a dull green flask, the contents inside the same resplendent yellow as the sun. "Partake of the Estus flask whenever thou is in pain." She explains to Za, "No Undeads journey is complete without a flask." 

Za nods, "Thank you." The Keeper bows, "I live to serve thee." 

Turning away from her, Za stares into the flickering light, inhaling deep as they reach out. A comforting glow envelops their body, and then they are gone.


	4. Along the High Wall

When they open their eyes again, Za finds themselves seated next to a crackling bonfire, situated on a round, stone pedestal. In front and behind them were stone steps leading off in different directions, ramparts along some derelict defense wall. 

Standing up, they observe the creatures that shuffle about, more Hollow, vacant and empty-eyed. 

Cautiously approaching a trio knelt before some bizarre tree that looked from spare glance like a man impaled on a giant spike, Za watches as they seem to pray to it, humming tunelessly in the backs of dry, dead throats.

A fourth hollow, clad in some rusty scraps of metal and torn rags that may have once been a soldier's garb shuffles forward, snarling as it grips the bloodstained sword it held tighter.

Za stares back, waiting till it is close enough before ducking the swipe, drawing their own blade to drive it through the creatures back. 

It groans weakly, falling in a pool of black blood.

The thud of its corpse draws the attention of one praying hollow, which lowers its head to cover it with both hands, shivering in fear. "No, oh gods no. Please, no, gods, no." It whimpers in a ragged voice suffering from lack of use. 

Za cannot help but feel pity for the creature, it still had some humanity left, however small it may be, nothing but the feeling of fear. 

Leaving the hollow alone, Za continues forward, halting to admire the corpse of some massive beast sprawled out across the structure one level above. It was great and terrible and beautiful, the scales that covered its body a reflective bronze, flaking away as the winged thing rots. 

Down some stairs and a ladder they go, dealing with one or two hollows along the way. 

After getting past a group of around six, Za reaches the entrance to another building, directly in front of it a warrior clad in armor still gleaming in a few areas not stained by the filth and blood as the rest of it. 

Behind its helmet, the Knight growls, advancing at a slow, steady pace, sword and shield held at the ready. 

Seeing no option, Za unsheathes their own weapon, raised to deflect the slash aimed at their face.

The Hollow Knight keeps up the attack, using rapid jabs in conjunction with blocks of its shield to knock aside Za's swings. Ducking under a stab at its head, the Knight carves a gash into Za's flank, who is a poorly thought act decides to grab the thing by the shoulder to hold it in place while their other embeds their scimitar into its neck, tip exiting out of its chest. 

The Knight falls, Za with it as they bring out the Estus Flask, taking a swig of the watery, faintly sweet yellow liquid, giving a sigh of relief as the pain of their wound subsides. 

Even still, they were shocked once they noticed that said wound was also closing, flesh knitting back together, muscles sliding into position. 

Admiring the Flask, Za offers a silent thank you to the Fire Keeper, whose gift would help make the events come more bearable.

Standing up, they enter the building the knight stood guard in front of, ducking in time to avoid the almost nude hollow that leaped from the darkness with a dagger in its hand. 

Said hand was loped free at the wrist, followed by the monster's head. 

Giving a huff, Za walks on, cutting down more Hollow, which grow in numbers as they do, eventually halting again once they rencounter the corpse of a winged monster like from earlier, this one scales a muted silver, two Hollow crouched before its body, looking diminutive next to the thing, deep in prayer.

They ignore Za, who descends a latter, giving the pack of undead clustered around more of those bizarre, skeletal trees. 

Reaching the bottom after handling a pair of Hollow wielding crossbows, Za finds themselves in a circular yard, dominated by a large stone fountain in the center, atop it a man in ceremonial robes with a massive greatsword hanging from his shoulder, all around said fountain dozens of corpses, riddled with arrows or with wounds caused by other weapons, the aftermath of some skirmish Za was not witnessed to.

The only creature still alive was the rotund entity clad in armor a black and blue shade, stomping around, kicking the bodies, prodding them with the executioner's ax clasped in its fists. 

Za takes one look at this towering thing and decides to just skirt around the edge until they find an exit, their luck almost instantly turning sour once they note the steps leading upwards to a cathedral-like structure had two Hollow Knights patrolling back and forth, no doubt was it of some importance, for even in their undead state, these warriors cling to memories that tell them this cathedral was in need of their protection.

Approaching the duo slowly, Za catches one's attention, the Hollow charging them as its companion advanced, hunkered down behind its shield. 

Sidestepping, Za swings at its head, their strike being caught on its metal greave, shoving them back to attack with calculated, powerful swipes, grunting with the effort as it drives Za back. 

The other knight jabs with its spear, the twos assault keeping Za on the backfoot, until they manage to duck under a stab aimed at their neck, thrusting their blade forward, watching the metal slip through a gap in the left knight's armor to embed itself in its chest. 

The Hollow groans as it doubles over, scimitar firmly lodged in its sternum, leaving Za with no weapon as they hop around the pokes the spear of the other. 

One foot twists to wrong way as they land, causing Za to stumble, leaving them open for the Knight to run them through. 

Letting out a pained moan, Za falls to their knees, watching the Knight retract, ready to drive its weapon through their eye this time, only to find Za behind them, almost faster than one could blink had the Unkindled one rolled behind it, scooping up the other Knights sword and swinging with all their might.

The Hollow hits the ground followed quickly by the rest of its body from the neck downward.

Huffing, trying to staunch the bleeding, Za drinks from the flask, sighing contently as the wound knits itself closed.


	5. Full Armored Beast

Rising back to their feet, Za dislodges their sword, cleaning it with two fingers as they march into the cathedral, which is a dark and dreary shade, emptty save for the chair on the far end of the room, in said chair an elderly looking woman, face obscured by the hood of her robe. 

Approaching slowly, Za watches as she stirs, looking upward into their eyes, "Ah, the wait has been long." She croons, "I am Emma, High Priestess of Lothric." Za inclines their head, stating their own name. 

"Allow me to speak frankly," Emma continues, "You shall not find the Lords of Cinder here, they make for their homes, so head for the High Wall, use this." She picks up the small, portable banner that had been resting in her lap, "Through the doors just across from here, raise the banner to call for an escort, they shall take you where you need to go." 

Za nods again graciously, stowing the banner away.

"But beware, Unkindled Za. The Vile Watchdog, Vordt, guards the exit. Of the Boreal Valley, awaiting the approach of those much like yourself." 

Za leaves, heading to the very bottom of the steps of the cathedral, right past two doors almost three times their height that had already been pushed open, on the other side a large room, a second pair of doors opposite of where Za was standing, the path forward. 

Za approaches these doors, but no sooner had they laid a palm on them did they hear a sound at their back.

Turning, they find blocking the way they came a large, pale grey cloud that swirled like a maelstrom, a deep, vibrating rumble being emitted.

Sensing danger, Za draws their scimitar, watching as from this portal, for that is what it was, emerges a towering behemoth, crawling forth on its hands and feet like a dog, limbs as thick as tree trunks, they and the rest of its body covered in silver armor that seemed to exude a thin mist of icy air. 

From behind its avian-like mask, two hard, cyan blue dots glare at Za with animal hatred, bounding forth, the mace held in one fist leaving craters in the stone floor with every impact.

Za leaps aside to avoid Vordts downward smash, feeling goosebumps sprout from the intense cold the beast radiated, lashing out with their sword, which rebounds harmlessly off of its arm. 

Vordt snarls, sweeping to the left, metal letting out a screech as it grinds against the rock, sending chunks of it flying every which way. 

Hopping backward, Za thrusts forward, finding a gap in Vordts neck, resisting the urge to cover their ears when the WatchDog howls in pain, so loud it felt as though Za's head would burst. 

Lunging, Vordt's helmeted skull collides with Za's chest, throwing them across the entire room. 

Using the momentum, Za rolls into a crouch, dodging right when Vordt crawls forward in an attempt to smash them with one fist. Za slashes again, carving a shallow line into the back of Vordts palm. 

Again does he scream, a furious storm of winter air rushing free of his mouth, the cold causing a layer of hoarfrost to begin to cover Za's body. Shuddering, teeth chattering, they move out of his reach, watching Vordt pound his great hammer into the floor in a fit of feral rage, this all the warning Za gets before he is bolting towards them, spinning around with grace unbefitting of such a massive thing just to launch his mass at them again, darting from one corner to the other, growing more and more angered with every failed attempt to stampede over Za.

On his final lap, Za extends their sword-wielding hand, which sinks into Vordts side, the sheer force of his unstoppable momentum causing the blade to split his hip open all the way down to the waist. 

Letting loose an alarmed, pained cry, Vordts head collides with the wall, everything shaking from the impacts force. 

He attempts to turn, to continue, but the damage was done, Za's weapon unzipped his whole right side, icy air and torrents of blood and all manner of organs falling through this wound as he collapses, Za letting out a sigh as his strength is absorbed, invigorating their body and easing their pain.

Moving on, Za slips through a gap in the large, red doors, on the other side nothing but a sheer cliff overlooking a distant village, beyond which lay a deep, luscious forest, stone towers peaking just over the canopy. 

Bringing out the banner Emma gave them, Za holds it aloft, the weathered coat of arms on it flapping in the breeze. 

Not a moment later, from over the lip of the cliff, a trio of pale, eyeless things, gaunt and with their bat-like wings spread appear. Za stares at them warily, watching as one extends a bony hand, curling the finger in beckoning, the smile on its thin lips, which reveal sharp, thin teeth oddly innocent looking, the kind a playful child may give.

Assuming these three were their escort, Za reaches out, allowing the creature to take hold of their wrist, the second looping its arms around their waist. 

Suddenly, Za was airborne, the two creatures carrying them with ease as they follow after the third, all of them making their way to the distant village. 

Refusing to look down, Za focuses on what is directly ahead, listening to the wind whistle, the air in their face. 

Their hunt of Cinders had begun.


End file.
